


paint my spirit gold

by avosettas



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: ...more like unorganized crime ba dm tss, Alcohol, Alternate Universe, Bootlegging, Gambling, Gen, Marijuana, Organized Crime, Past Character Death, Past Murder, References to Sex, Rum Running, Smoking, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-05
Updated: 2020-06-05
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:15:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24548998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/avosettas/pseuds/avosettas
Summary: Early morning. Running time."We're too good at our jobs for this."Or, the bootlegger/drug smuggling au no one asked for.(BTB Prompt: Promotes Crime)
Relationships: Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 8
Collections: Banned Together Bingo 2020





	paint my spirit gold

**Author's Note:**

> i don't know how to play poker. or anytning about alochol. it's like 12am.

The game is simple: if Lars wins, he arranges the transport, and the selling. If Gilbert wins, he arranges it. Arthur plays his part in their game simply by turning a blind eye to their gambling in his pub. 

“And the verdict?” Arthur asks, sliding another round in front of them. Gilbert looks annoyed, frowning at the cards laid out in front of him. The chips in the middle obscure his cards from Lars’s view; Lars, for his part, is unreadable. 

“Best two outta three,” Gilbert grunts in response. “I better not have to ask Matthias to do this for me again, he almost got caught last time. And he’s late with the current one,” He slides some more chips into the center. 

“Then don’t ask an idiot to do your running,” Lars replies, lighting his pipe. Technically, smoking isn’t allowed in public areas, but Arthur turns a blind eye to that, too, for just about everyone save Francis Bonnefoy. Who also happens to run him the good wine that isn’t allowed to be imported anymore. 

“Sig’s smart, ‘nd so’s Ber, but I wouldn’t trust Matthias with a damn thing.” Lars adds after a moment. He pauses, draws another card. “Hardly sell ‘im grass anymore, can’t trust him to pay.” 

~

Anri’s speakeasy runs a similar way to Arthur’s pub, but without the illegality of smoking. She saunters her hips when she walks and wears tight shirts to get extra tips from her patrons. 

Erzebet calls her a whore, sometimes, but then she usually slips her an extra few bucks to contact her brother on Natalya’s behalf. So Anri doesn’t mind. 

“I’d think some of these bastards get tired of the same tits every night,” Natalya says one night, alone at her table. Anri pours her a shot, and sits in the empty chair Erzebet usually occupies. “But then, men are unthinkably stupid sometimes.” 

“Mm,” Anri hums noncommittally. “The men here _are_ stupid, but that’s not why you’re here. If you were looking for a good fuck with a stupid man, you’d go find Alfred, hm?” 

“Fuck off,” Natalya says, throwing back the shot and slamming the glass down for another.

~

“I need you to do me a favor.” 

Basch scowls, and Gilbert can tell he wants to slam the door in his face. “Why should I?” 

“You know why.” 

“I could kill you too, if I wanted too.” Basch threatens, hand moving to his waist. Then drops it immediately, because someone is coming down the stairs behind him. 

Gilbert waves at Elise. She is small, much smaller than either of them. Basch has almost no height on her but plenty of muscle. Gilbert has at least four inches on her in height, and plenty of muscle as well. 

She waves back, and moves out of his sight to the kitchen. Gilbert drops his voice. “I could tell her that you were the one who killed her brother.” 

Basch’s eyes flash, and he says, “Get out of my house, Gilbert.” 

“So you’re doing it?” Gilbert grins. 

~

Lars puffs his pipe, mindful not to aim his smoke at the man across from him. Kiku Honda is one of the most dangerous men he deals with, despite his small stature; to blow smoke in his face would be a death sentence. 

Of course, sitting as he is on the zabuton, not with his legs folded beneath him but with one stretched across the tatami and the other held close to his chest, he may be pissing off Kiku enough already. 

“The sake will be sent through your sister’s bar, as discussed previously, Van der Boor-san.” Kiku’s gaze cuts to the side - in the next room over, someone is listening is through the shoji paper. He doesn’t acknowledge it, except for that glance. 

Alcohol is legal in Kiku’s country, and Lars sips at the sake provided as Kiku remains silent. Finally, he says, “I’ll give my sister some grass, she’ll give it to your runner.” 

“Wonderful.” 

~

“Fucking watch it!” 

Emil wrenches the wheel to the right hard, and the boat lists fiercely to starboard. In the bow, Sigurd nearly falls over himself, while Matthias’s legs hit the box’s between them hard. Next to Emil, Berwald grabs the side of the boat, knuckles white. 

“I always said we should put those damn lights on the boat,” Matthias grumbles once he sits, rubbing his bruised shin. 

“That’s how Timo got caught when he did runnin’ for Natalya’s outfit,” Berwald replies, his voice a low rumble. “Havin’ the engine’s dangerous enough.” 

“Letting a teenager drive is dangerous enough,” Sigurd retorts.

“You agreed.” Emil says flatly, reorienting their little boat. “We didn’t lose any, did we?” 

“Of course not,” Sigurd replies. “We’re too good at our jobs for this.” 

~

“Mm,” Anri throws another card down. “Go fish.” 

Early morning. Running time. 

Anri hates Go Fish, really, and so does Natalya, but they’d had nothing better to do to sober up after they’d fucked a few times. All they can do is wait. 

Anri counts in her head. Three shipments of alcohol - a late one and a new one from Gilbert, one from the Honda-gumi through her brother’s outfit. 

Vaguely, she wonders if the new one from Gilbert will be on time. The only reason she hasn’t asked him to stop sending Matthias is because he’s good for a quick fuck, _and_ on paying his tab. You can’t find a man good at both, these days. Not very often, anyway, in Anri’s opinion. 

Natalya, technically, has no business here - her outfit runs from Anri's to Arthur’s and back again, but Timo and his cousin are in jail, Erzebet and Katya have lives, somehow, and Anri doesn’t quite care enough about the rest of them to ask. She claims she’s bored. 

Lars had sent her a message through Francis Bonnefoy earlier, about how many ounces of grass to give the Honda-gumi runner. She hasn’t bothered to get it out of the box yet, though. Let them see how much her big brother has, and they’ll come back. 

Also, sake will be good for her bar. Plenty of customers like expensive liquor. 

It’s Gilbert’s runner who arrives first - or rather, his current runner. Basch Zwingli is short, muscular, and Anri has known him to have at least three guns on his person at all times. She doesn’t even try, with him. He won’t respond - not since he killed Roderich Edelstein. 

“Zwingli,” she says. “Been awhile.” 

“I’d rather it be forever,” he responds, quite rudely in her opinion. He takes the money and leaves. 

Gilbert must still be hanging the Edelstein murder over his head, then. Figures, since last she’d heard Basch had taken in the guy’s younger sister. 

Then the Honda-gumi runner. She is thin with wide shoulders and narrow hips, but she declines Anri’s invitation of the newly delivered sake, or any other alcohol. She seems disinterested in the grass, too. Natalya watches her leave with interest.

Anri pours each of them some sake, and they wait. The sun begins to rise, but that’s alright. 

Natalya is snoring on the table when Sigurd leads Berwald and Matthias in with Gilbert’s week old run. Anri smiles like the cat with the cream. “Late.” 

“Gilbert informed us on Monday that we had a load to run,” replies Sigurd’s little brother, who’s name Anri doesn’t know, and doesn’t really care to know, from behind Berwald. 

“It’s going to cost you,” Anri purrs, right up in Sigurd’s face. He’s stoic through it all. 

“Gilbert’s money, not ours,” he says boredly. “We get what he agreed to give us; he’s the one who loses.”

“Brave way of looking at it,” Natalya mumbles, half asleep on the table. “But I guess you have to be brave for this job. Or an idiot.”


End file.
